Fill My Lungs with Sweetness
by varjaks
Summary: Between his traitor of a body and Molly's fascination with Lady Hudson's hedge maze, Sherlock Holmes doesn't stand a chance. Regency Era AU. Oneshot. [Prompt fill for MorbidMegz]


**Original prompt:** Sherlock finds out Molly has never been kissed. Something inside him snaps, he wants to be the first one to do so.

**Author's Note:** I've been meaning to write a Regency Era AU for these two for a while now, so it's been so much fun writing this. This is based on a prompt I received from morbidmegz that I've tweaked (quite) a bit. It still deals with Molly's first kiss though Sherlock doesn't so much snaps as he does...well, I'll let you get on to it.

**Disclaimer:** Nope, none of it is mine. Not even Simon, Earl of Clyvdon. Sigh.

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Molly found him ten minutes earlier than he expected. Sherlock watched her step out into the veranda and walk towards the shadowed corner where he had been sitting (_waiting_) since his swift departure from the party. It was not the first time that Molly proved to be very good at finding and surprising him - two things that even the most competitive society matrons, eager to match him with their daughters, were incapable of.

"You should not have apologized for me." Sherlock kept his eyes trained forward even as he felt the slippery material of her gown brush against his hand.

"Lady Hudson is our host. Someone had to apologize to her for the way you stormed out during the conversation," Molly replied smoothly as she sat beside him, arranging her skirts. When she was done, she turned to look at his profile. "I'm sure you know that she meant no harm."

Sherlock _did_ know. Lady Hudson, the kind widow who lived in the manor adjacent to the Holmes country estate in Hampstead, had always been like a second mother. While his parents and Mycroft left him to the care of tutors for most of the year, Lady Hudson welcomed him and his experiments into her home, specifically a disused study that doubled as his laboratory. She was the only one then who recognized that young Sherlock was a brilliant but extremely lonely boy.

"She's simply worried about you and how you've been coping." He knew that Molly was being careful with her words, wondering if alluding to his father's death would set him off again. She was very good at that, too - talking to him, knowing when and how to tread lightly without making him bristle.

To Sherlock, it was Molly's proficiency and intellect which made her the most eligible debutante of the season. Sherlock tamped down a sneer at the thought of the imbeciles vying for her attention, none of whom would even try to understand her fascination with anatomy, let alone encourage her voracious appetite for the newest medical journals. It was clear that all they saw in Molly was a beautiful woman who would give them her late father's dukedom, a warm marriage bed and heirs.

Sherlock swore to himself then and there that he would not let that happen. Molly deserved a life far better than what those buffoons could offer her. At some point between promising to watch over the girl who John considered a sister more than Harriet, and that balmy evening outside of Lady Hudson's summer ball, Molly had become his friend.

It was easy for him to recall the day he spotted her latest delivery of foreign medical journals from the same discrete supplier he regularly contacted. He remembered with perfect clarity how that moment led to many exchanges of esoteric reading materials on the sciences and clandestine meetings to conduct experiments, which benefited greatly from her extensive knowledge of biology.

In fact, they spent the previous night pouring over textbooks in preparation for another experiment on the effects of different concentrations of acid on organic matter. Molly wrote translations from a German tome until exhaustion took over an hour shy of dawn. Sherlock had looked up from his notes and found her dozing on the table, her hair turned honey brown in the candlelight, and her lips plump from her habit of biting on them when she read.

Odd, he thought he deleted that. Sherlock frowned but nonetheless, found himself looking to those lips that had just occupied his thoughts.

"Sherlock," Molly whispered, and her warm breath on his mouth made him aware of how closely he leaned into her. She peered at him, softly repeating his name as he catalogued the featherlight touch of her eyelashes against the apples of his cheek.

Sherlock sighed to himself before he replaced the distance between them. "We should return to the party, Molly," he announced flatly and offered her a hand to stand from her seat. "Your mother may approve of me, but even she will be worried if you're gone for very long."

Molly blinked at him in confusion, her eyes quickly hardening as she searched his face. She wordlessly accepted his hand but dropped it as soon as she was on her feet. Sherlock watched uneasily as Molly marched a few steps from the bench and paused near the set of staircases that led down to the garden. Her stiff posture and the way she fisted the fine green silk of her skirts told him as clearly as John would that an apology was now necessary.

"Molly," Sherlock started as he looked to her turned back, "I - "

"I'm going to see the garden," Molly cut in with her stare fixed at the elaborate hedge maze below.

It was Sherlock's turn to be confused as he moved forward. Was Molly no longer cross with him? Did she not want his apology? A heavy feeling settled in his chest at the thought that maybe she thought he was incapable of it.

"Perhaps in the morning. It's late and it will be even more difficult to find your way through the maze."

"Lady Hudson mentioned that you spent hours here memorizing it." Molly turned to Sherlock and grinned unexpectedly. The glint of her necklace drew his eyes to the curve of her throat. "I was hoping you would join me."

Sherlock swallowed the dry lump in his throat as his eyes darted between Molly and the staircase. Even with a full moon, the maze looked forbidding as its towering hedges threw long shadows on the pathways. It was too easy to get lost in one of the many passages, too easy to hide...

Shocked, Sherlock paused to look at Molly, whose smile became a little more goading. The faint flush on her cheeks confirmed the unspoken invitation, and he quickly took a step back. Before leaving for his honeymoon in the Continent, John made Sherlock swear to look after Molly in his place, to treat her like a sister and to keep away the worst candidates. Sherlock knew that he would not be able to keep his promises if he accepted her offer; while he prided himself in being mentally superior to the other bachelors, he was conscious of the fact that he was not the man she deserved.

As it was, their friendship rarely kept him from snapping at her when he was too far into his own mind. He had a paper-thin tolerance for most people, and often overlooked what were apparently obvious social rules and practices. He relied on John and Molly for cues, to point out what was "a bit not good," and to apologise for his infamously brusque behaviour. Sherlock knew his faults too well.

"We can meet here at first light, and I can show you the fountain at the center."

Molly frowned at his placating tone and quickly began to descend the steps. "Fine, I'll go alone then."

"Molly!" Sherlock rushed to catch up with her. He placed a hand on her sleeve before she immediately shrugged him off. "Will you stop being so difficult and listen to me?" He rolled his eyes when she increased her pace. They soon approached the outermost wall of the maze and Sherlock quickly took Molly by the wrist. The move inadvertently drew her closer and he immediately felt the phantom brushes of her eyelashes on his cheeks.

"You can't just go in there unescorted." Sherlock's voice dropped to a whisper as his fingertips swept across the satin of her glove. "Someone might take advantage of you."

Molly tried to free herself from his hold, but his grasp was firm. The silence stretched as Sherlock found himself absolutely fascinated by the pulse that jumped beneath his touch. He watched his fingers rise over her forearm until he reached the bare skin between the fabric of her glove and the silk of her sleeve. Sherlock shook himself and looked up to find Molly quietly studying him.

He dropped his hand from her arm, intent on a successful apology. "Forgive me, I - "

This time, Molly cut him off with a step forward that left scant inches between them. It was clear that she surprised herself, and judging by the way colour bloomed in her cheeks and the subtle quiver of her mouth, Molly's bravado was quickly leaving her. Sherlock knew that it was the moment to take control of the situation, and steer them back to the party. He would thoroughly delete the last few minutes from his mind, and she would be able to give her first kiss to a more deserving man.

He knew what he should do, and yet Sherlock found himself guiding her past the entrance of the maze to a dead end that was hidden under the shadows. He whispered her name as he leaned into her, pushing Molly against a hedge. Sherlock rubbed his nose to her cheek and breathed in the clean scent of her skin, which was far more heady to him than the fragrance from the nearby flowerbeds.

Molly's breath hitched and the sound drew Sherlock's attention back to her mouth. She held his gaze as he inched a little closer and wound one arm around her back to pull her tightly to him. Her lips were soft and pliant under his, offering no resistance when he licked the corner of her mouth to ask for entry. Molly was a quick study as her tentative attempts to meet his every move quickly turned firm, eager to give just as much as she took.

Sherlock felt her gloved hands rest at the nape of his neck, and his arm around her waist tightened. His free hand flattened against her shoulder blades, caressing the delicate bones before it came up to rest against her exposed collarbone. His lungs burned but the need to keep her close, to hear those small gasps every time his teeth worried her bottom lip, and_ to have and do_ _more_, overrode everything else. It was only when his head began to feel heavy did he pull his mouth away away.

They struggled to catch their breaths but refused to move far from the other. Sherlock kept one arm around her and the other on the jumping pulse in her neck, while Molly steadied herself with both hands on his shoulders.

"We should return to the party," said Molly. Sherlock was surprised at the deep sense of satisfaction he felt over her still ragged breathing.

"Must we?" he teased.

Molly's eyes widened as the flush on her cheeks intensified. That, coupled with the dark pink of her kiss-bruised lips, made Sherlock want to close the distance between them again. He had just bowed his head towards her when she put a firm hand to his chest.

"You were right a while ago about my mother worrying. You can escort me back to the house instead."

Sherlock sighed and nodded even as he silently cursed his earlier words. He stepped back and it was strange how he suddenly felt at a loss without the softness and warmth of Molly's body against his. His mind didn't linger on those thoughts too long, however, as she moved in close and quickly wound an arm around one of his.

"I assume the Earl of Clyvdon won't mind if I take his place in your dance card tonight." Sherlock led them through several turns and past the entrance once again.

"I thought that you approved of Simon." Molly laughed at the scowl on Sherlock's face.

"_Simon_ displays characteristics that will make him a fiercely loyal husband, but he lacks your inclination to the sciences. As someone who spent most of his school years with the man_,_ I can honestly say that it won't make any difference how many textbooks and journals you pile on dear _Simon_."

Molly bit back the next wave of laughter and nodded instead. "I'll take your word for it. Although, you did make it quite clear very early on that you do not dance."

"I dance," Sherlock replied smoothly as they began to ascend the staircase back to the balcony. He didn't seem aware that he tugged her a little closer using the arm that was tangled with his. "I simply choose not to."

"Except for tonight."

Sherlock stopped a few steps away from the glass doors and looked to Molly. She returned his gaze calmly but her nervousness was given away by the slight quiver of her lips-lips that he still felt moving against his own, warm and demanding in a way that made his collar feel a bit too tight.

"Yes." Sherlock made a jerky nod and smiled a little as he considered his next words. "Except for you."

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End file.
